An Eye For An Eye
by No Guns Only Roses
Summary: He couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something about this. He wanted to punish himself. Takes place after the episode "Skank Hunt".


**I'm not a huge South Park fan, but you gotta love Kyle and Cartman's friendenemy relationship. Kyle was so guilty about breaking Cartman's stuff in Season 20 that he actually shed a tear! So I couldn't help but write a fic about his guilt and reflection over his friendship with Cartman.**

 **And if this seems a bit OC, forgive me. Like I said, I'm not THAT into the show. :P**

 **NOTE: This will probably have grammar mistakes which I will fix later on.**

 _"Oh, my god...oh, my god, you guys are gonna break all my stuff so I can't get online."_

 _"Please! Please, don't break my stuff, you guys! This is like, two Christmases and a birthday worth of stuff! You guys can't do this! PLEASE!"_

 _"NO, GOD! NO! DON'T! DON'T! DON'T! OH, MY GOD! OH, MY GOD! OH, MY GOD! AAHHH! AAHHHH! AAAHHHHH! AAAAAHHHHHHH!"_

Kyle closed his eyes and a tear slipped down his cheek as he lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't get the look on Cartman's face out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. The guy begged them not to break his stuff. The fear in his eyes was real.

It's funny, Cartman would've been the last person Kyle could compare to a lamb. Lambs were supposed to be gentle and meek. Cartman was the complete opposite. He was manipulative, sadistic, racist, psychotic...the list, unfortunately, could go on and on. But on that very night, Cartman was indeed like a lamb. A helpless lamb that was being cornered by ravenous wolves.

Come to think of it, Jesus Christ was considered to be the Lamb of God, and it was the Jews who sentenced him to die on the cross.

Oh, god. Was Cartman right all along? All those horrible things he said about Jews throughout the years...were they true?

Kyle shook his head on the pillow. No. Half of the time, Cartman didn't even know what he was saying. And he'd say anything just to get under Kyle's skin, even if the things he would say weren't true. What Kyle did that night in the woods had nothing to do with the nature of Jews. But he was still a horrible person for doing that to his friend.

 _Friend._

Was Cartman even his friend to begin with? Pretty much all Cartman ever did was abuse and irk him, and he even tried to murder him several times in the past. But even so, for some reason that he could not fathom, Kyle stayed at Cartman's side, no matter how intense their rivalry would get. He was drawn to him somehow. What was even more weird was that after he broke off his friendship with Stan, the first person he turned to wasn't Butters, or Craig, or even Kenny. It was Cartman.

Their friendship was unstable and unusual, but it was a friendship, nonetheless. But how could that be? Perhaps it had something to do with the whole...what was it...Yin Yang philosophy? Two opposite yet complementary forces that make a whole. One cannot be separated from the other, or the universe, itself, would be in a state of imbalance. Kyle couldn't explain why, but he and Cartman _needed_ each other.

And now Kyle was a Yan without his Yin. He had never felt so empty and lonely in his entire life, and the feeling was unbearable. Sniffling and wiping a tear away, he pulled out his phone and clicked on the photo app. Of the 234 photos that were in his album, only eight of them included Cartman. There was one of him and Kyle sitting on the swings in the playground, smiling and waving, seemingly happy. It was a very rare moment between the two of them, a moment that he'd probably never get ever again thanks to his stupidity.

Whenever Cartman was in trouble, Kyle would always be there to help him out. He'd even risk his own life to save the fatass's, because he was a good person. The better person. He used to believe that anyway, but after last night...

 _"You saved my life, Kyle. Deep down inside, you're a monster...but you're_ my _little monster."_

A shaky sigh escaped Kyle's lip and the tears were coming back. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something about this.

He wanted to punish himself.

Very quietly, he snuck out of his room and tiptoed downstairs into the kitchen. He was really hoping that his parents were asleep by then, and judging by the time on the oven clock, which was 11:02 pm, they most likely were. He went to the cabinet and pulled something from out of a drawer.

A cook's knife.

With slow, heavy step, as though he were walking toward the gallows, he headed for the kitchen table and took a seat. He took a moment to stare at his reflection in the blade. He was beginning to have second thoughts about doing this...

 _"It wasn't him, Kyle! We took Cartman out for no reason! We can't undo what we've done."_

No. He deserved this. There was no turning back.

Taking a deep breath and tightening his grip on the knife's handle, he lifted his other arm...

...

...and placed his phone on the table.

He begged his mother to let him have a phone. "Everyone else has one," was his reasoning. Finally, after months of begging and sucking up, his mother finally relented and gave him what he desired. You couldn't convince him to give up his phone for anything. Until now.

Cartman committed Twitter suicide because of _him_. It would only be fair if he were to commit Facebook suicide or something and break his own stuff. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, right? He knew full well that destroying his stuff wouldn't fix things between him and Cartman, but he had to do something.

 _I'm sorry, Cartman. I know this won't make things even, but it's a start._

With a trembling arm, he raised his knife, preparing to plunge it right through his phone and put an end to his social media life. But he froze, unable to bring his arm down. He started to bite his lower lip to the point that it started to bleed. The memory of the forlorn and crestfallen Cartman walking past him in the hall earlier flashed in his mind.

 _Come on, do it! You deserve a far worse punishment than this! So suck it up!_

He pulled his arm back. His forehead started to sweat and his mouth became dry.

 _DO IT! DO IT, YOU F**KING PANSY!_

He shut his eyes tight and brought the knife down with full force...

...and he missed the phone by inches. The knife embedded itself in the wood. He knew that his mother was later kill him for ruining the table, but at that moment, he didn't really give a f**k. He didn't give a f**k about anything.

He couldn't bring himself to do it. He was not only a bully, but a coward, as well. Frustrated and ashamed, he banged his forehead against the edge of the table and let the tears run freely.

"Kyle?"

He lifted his head at the sound of his mother's voice and looked at her with red, puffy eyes.

Shelia stood at the doorway and crossed her arms, an angry expression on her face. "What are you doing up?! Do you realize what time it is?!" But then she noticed the tears in his eyes and instantly becoming worried. "Kyle, you look awful! What's the matter? And what on Earth are you doing with that knife?"

Kyle stared at her for a moment before jumping off the chair and running toward her. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her robe. His shoulders shook as he let out muffled sobs.

"Mom...I don't...broke his stuff...f**ked up big..." was all that she could make out. She soothingly rubbed her son's back, not quite sure how else to deal with this situation.

"It's-It's going to be okay, Kyle," she attempted to comfort him. "You'll see. Now let's get back to bed. Come on." She walked with him back upstairs and into his bedroom. She tucked him and gave him a peck on the forehead.

"Goodnight, my baby," she whispered lovingly to him as she left the room. "Pleasant dreams."

But he didn't have pleasant dreams that night. Only nightmares.

Nightmares about a sad fat kid who had his stuff broken by his own friends.


End file.
